


Waking Up in a Stranger's Bed

by houndhear



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Mentions of alcohol, Not Serious, Waking Up with a Stranger, just a fun little romp with 2 of my favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houndhear/pseuds/houndhear
Summary: After drinking a little too much at one of Magnus' parties, Maia finds herself in an unfamiliar bed with a very pretty stranger, a hangover, and no idea how she got here.





	Waking Up in a Stranger's Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it with another Maia ship. Honestly, my girl just needs some love and a good time.
> 
> Maia's POV.
> 
> Any critiques will be highly appreciated!

Sunlight poured in through the large windows, burning Maia’s eyes. She lifted her hand to shield herself and rolled over. Unfortunately, she rolled the wrong direction and ended up on the floor with a loud thump.

“Ugh, keep it down,” a voice grumbled from above her. Whoever it was then proceeded to yank the covers away from Maia, leaving her on a cold wooden floor.

“Hey!” Maia tried to pull the blankets back over her, but the person on the bed wouldn’t surrender.

“Stop hogging the blankets, the sun is killing me.”

“Use a pillow,” Maia retorted. She rubbed her sore eyes and let the room come into focus. A minimalistic room that was not her own. And in the bed next to her, she realized, was someone that she didn’t recognize.

Maia shot upwards, then moaned in pain. Her head was _not_ agreeing with her. She got to her feet, more slowly this time and using the nightstand for support. The pounding in her head protested, but it settled down after a minute, and Maia examined the girl in the bed.

Blankets obscured the top half of her, but her legs were bare, save for the large purple splotch on her knee and deadly high heels that seemed like a pain to get on and off. Next to her feet was a wadded-up cocktail dress that was so shimmery, it hurt to look at directly. A thin layer of glitter covered the bed and the two girls; Maia swore, knowing it would take at least three showers to get that stuff off, and only God could help her hair now.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” the girl complained, her voice scratchy and muffled. She struggled to push herself into a sitting position and pull the blankets off.

Upon seeing the other girl’s face, Maia thought, _Damn_. Even in her current state, she was gorgeous—smooth tan skin, intense brown eyes, full lips. Who cared about the black rat’s nest on her head, or the mess of makeup on her face? Maia found a part of herself hoping that she was the one who smudged her lipstick.

Considering that they were both topless, she figured that that was very likely.

If only she could remember what happened.

She knows she was dragged to another one of Magnus’s parties by Simon, who was being dragged by Clary, who wanted to go for some Jace-related reason. But then Clary and Jace not-so-secretly snuck off together, and Simon had vanished, so Maia treated herself to the open bar. Needless to say, the rest of the night was a blur.

“I’m gonna go chug water,” Maia croaked out. She pulled up her jeans, which her drunk self almost succeeded in taking off, and buttoned them, scanning the floor for the rest of her clothes. Her bra hung off the edge of the bed, and her socks and one of her shoes were accounted for, but her shirt was nowhere to be found. If this girl had any roommates, Maia hoped they wouldn’t mind seeing her shirtless.

“Hold on, I’m coming too,” the girl said, fumbling with the straps of her heels. A memory of last night swimmed in and out of focus, eventually resting in the front of Maia’s consciousness.

They were at the bar, she and this girl. She said something, Maia bit something back, and then they were doing shots. People chanted. It was a competition, a drinking competition, and there was a prize… Maia won, but it was close. The girl laughed—Maia remembered that sound quite clearly, it was like a melody that cut through the pulsing music—and introduced herself.

“You’re Isabelle, right?” Maia asked, almost certain of the answer. “Isabelle Lightwood?”

“Call me Izzy. And you are…”

“Maia.”

“Right.” Isabelle stood up and stretched, showing off her muscular frame. She strode towards the door, not bothering to dress in anything but her lacy underwear. “Water sounds great right now.”

The bedroom gave way into a spacious living area connected to the kitchen. The space was stylish but very plain; it seemed more like a room out of a home catalogue, lacking any personal touch. Isabelle grabbed two mugs suspended from underneath the kitchen cabinets and filled them with water from the sink. She handed one to Maia before hopping onto the polished countertop and drinking from her own mug. 

Water provided a welcome remedy to the dry mouth and throat that plagued Maia since she woke up, and judging by the other girl’s expression, she felt the same relief. Within a few seconds, both of their cups were drained.

“So, Izzy,” Maia began, wincing at the clank of her mug against the counter. “How much do you remember from last night?”

“I was hoping you could fill me in,” she said. Her voice already sounded better—less scratchy, more silvery and musical.

“All I know is we were in some kind of drinking contest.”

Isabelle laid back so that her elbows supported her weight, which gave Maia a full display of her body. “That I remember. And I’m pretty sure you won.”

“Did I ever get my prize?” Maia asked, cocking her head to the side and giving a half-smile.

“I think you’d remember _that_ ,” she smirked. “I’ve been told I’m very memorable.”

“So am I.”

They stared at each other for a few moments too long, letting the distant sounds of the city wash over them. Maia noticed then just how chilled the air in this room was. The hairs on Maia’s arms stood up, begging her to go find her shirt or her jacket or _something_ warm. But Isabelle’s eyes transfixed her, held her in place; suddenly she recalled the same hypnotic eyes beckoning her, accompanied by the fluid motion of her hips.

Lights flashed and colored the room purple, pink, and red. The beat pounded in the air, making the floor vibrate and her teeth buzz. Dark eyes in a dark dress that sparkled with every movement invited her over. They danced. Isabelle snaked around her, an impossible combination of water and fire. Roaming hands, rolling hips, and hot breath against her ear.

“Well,” Isabelle broke the connection and examined her finger, picking at the skin around her nails. “Then I guess we didn’t have sex.”

“We did _something_ though,” Maia said. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed up and down a few times, trying to generate some heat. “Aren’t you cold?”

“A little... I know a way we can warm each other up,” she teased.

“As much as I’d like to, Clary’s probably freaking out. I better head home.”

Isabelle sat up very slowly, her body tense. “Wait. This isn’t your apartment?”

“I thought it was yours.” Maia stood up too, meeting Isabelle’s widened eyed with a panicked look of her own. When Isabelle shook her head, they both raced back into the bedroom, a burst of adrenaline pumping through their veins. Maia scrambled to put on her footwear as she frantically searched for her missing shirt. Her string of curses got increasingly violent the longer the search went on.

“Can you zip me?” Isabelle requested, brushing her long hair out of the way. Maia obliged, and if she wasn’t worried about the apartment’s owner showing up and calling the cops on them, she would’ve taken time to appreciate the way the dress flattered Isabelle’s shape. Instead, she averted her eyes, because the sun reflecting off of the sequins was not helping her aching head.

“Have you seen my shirt?” Maia asked, helplessly scanning the room again.

“No, let’s look out-”

They both froze. Someone had come home. The distant, creaking sound of an opening door warned them to get out now or hide. 

Suddenly, Isabelle grabbed Maia’s wrist and yanked her into the closet.

“What the hell are you-” she started, but Isabelle put a hand over her mouth, shushing her urgently. They were pressed incredibly close together, even though there was enough space for them to stand a little further apart. Hushed breaths escaped Isabelle’s mouth, warming the air between them. Maia’s heart beat fast—which was only because of the adrenaline, she was sure—as she tried to focus on _the possible axe-murderer who just got home_ and not the dumb pretty girl with one hand still on her arm and the other on her lips.

Footsteps approached, growing louder with every step. Through the slits in the closet door, Maia could make out a shadowy figure stopping just a few feet away from where they stood. She held her breath.

More footsteps carried the person to another door, which closed and locked with a click. Isabelle released Maia, causing a surge of cold air to envelop her, and they tiptoed out of the room. Once they reached the kitchen, they made a mad dash for the front door and sprinted down the hallway, eventually finding the door to the staircase. Maia pounded down the stairs, her feet landing in time with her accelerated heartbeat, Isabelle close behind her. A few flights later and they were in the lobby, empty except for a delivery guy and a doorman, who was writing something down with one of those pens that were chained to the desk.

“That,” Maia panted, “was terrifying. Remind me never to drink again.”

“Shit!” Isabelle exclaimed in between gasps. “I left my shoes up there.”

“I’ll trade you.” Maia gestured to her shirtless upper half. “Seriously, let’s switch. That dress would look great on me.”

“I really like those shoes,” she pouted, and Maia rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to go back for them?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Isabelle didn’t seem to notice and shrugged.

“Kinda.” The delivery guy, Maia noticed, had left; now the doorman’s suspicious eyes were trained on the two dishevelled girls.

“Let’s go,” she said, nodding in the direction of the doorman. Thankfully, Isabelle got the hint, and they exited the building as nonchalantly as they could. Looking around, Maia thanked her drunk self for not wandering too far from where she lived, but then she checked her pockets—no wallet, no phone. A hungover walk home and the drawn-out process of freezing her credit account was exactly what she needed right now.

Isabelle cursed suddenly and turned to Maia. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my purse is, would you?”

She shook her head. This girl had practically read her mind. “My things are missing too,” she replied. At this, Isabelle groaned and threw her back against the building behind her, then yelped and rubbed her head. She dragged her hand down the side of her face, stretching the skin around the corner of her eye.

“Alec is going to kill me.” One look at Maia’s confused expression, and she waved away an explanation. “My brother. He worries about me.”

“I get that,” Maia sympathized, leaning against the wall next to her. “Clary freaks out whenever she doesn’t know where me or Simon is, she’s like,”—she raised her tone an octave—”Oh my God, I thought you were dead, you can’t just disappear, oh my God!”

Isabelle snickered at her mock-impression. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “The worst part is, she’s such a hypocrite. She disappears _all the time_.” Eyes fixed on the street ahead, Maia shivered. Everyone else had jackets, scarves, and hats: the sensible, appropriate attire for these temperatures. At least no one was staring at her. She didn’t think she could withstand both the cold and the judgemental glances. “But I guess it’s kinda sweet,” she thought out loud, “That she cares so much.”

“She’s your roommate, right?” Isabelle asked. _Huh_ , Maia thought. She forgot that Izzy didn’t know her that well—or at all, really—and vice versa.

She ignored the voice in her head that wanted to remedy that situation.

“Mhm,” she hummed in affirmation. “And official best friend. Simon made membership cards.”

“No he didn’t,” Isabelle scoffed, eyebrows raised disbelievingly.

“He did, I swear! If I had my wallet on me I’d show you.” The other girl just rolled her eyes, and Maia relented. “Okay, maybe we were like, seven or something, but it still counts.”

“And you keep it in your wallet?”

Maia felt heat rise to her face. Because great, now Isabelle thinks she’s some sort of kid and—when did she care so much about what other people thought?

“Well, it’s been fun, but I’d better get going,” Maia responded lamely, not wanting to embarrass herself any further. And maybe it was her imagination, but as she walked away, she saw something akin to disappointment flash on Isabelle’s face.

 _Why do I have to make everything weird?_ she thought to herself.

Maia had traveled a block and a half when she heard someone calling her name. Confused, she turned and—

“Wait!”

—there was Isabelle, running after her. A slight blush had appeared on her cheeks, probably from running in the cold, and a pen dangled from her hand on a broken-off chain. She grabbed Maia’s wrist and pulled it towards her, scribbling a series of numbers across the base of her palm.

“My number,” she breathed, “In case you find your phone.”

The warmth emitting from Isabelle’s fingers traveled up Maia’s arm and spread through her entire body. Not wanting to ruin the moment with words, she gave Isabelle a smile, which she returned with blinding radiance.

“And for the record, Maia,” she began, hand still curled around her wrist. “I think it’s cute you held on to something like that.”

They parted again, this time with excitement buzzing in the air between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, any comments or critiques would be amazing! Also, lemme know if you'd be interested in reading exactly how they ended up in this situation...


End file.
